


Circles

by inbetweenfractals



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Gen, Time Travel, there may or may not be a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbetweenfractals/pseuds/inbetweenfractals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they learn that Harry is dead, they realize there is no hope. Hermione says, "No."</p><p>(She runs in circles.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles

When they learn that Harry is dead, they realize that there is no hope. Wands fall from hands suddenly slack. Shoulders slump.

Hermione says, "No." Her voice is very small.

 

(She runs in circles.)

 

Clever fingers, clever mind, clever girl. Cleverest witch of her age. If she hears the word clever enough times, it becomes an object. Clever, cleaver. She cleaves, she rends. She will not allow.

Clever fingers, clever mind. Fingers tangle in chain, tangle in magic, tangle in hair and time and thought. Her greatest strength is running away. Clever, clever girl.

Girlie, and she feels the world rush past her. It's sickening, nauseating, but she is stronger than her stomach. She doesn't understand how Ron and Harry can like broomsticks, or how her parents (oh god her _parents_ ) can like roller coasters. All this rushing, rushing.

And she runs.

 

She thinks she might feel better if there was blood. You bleed, you die in a muggle war. You fall, you die, you die in a wizard war.

She won't allow it. There has to be a way, somewhere, somewhere. Horcruxes and hope, death without blood. Lord Voldemort laughs in her head.

She can't forget the bodies. The battlefield roars in her head.

 

Locket, cup, diadem, snake. Ring, diary, Harry. Run through her head, run through her hands.

Gryffindor, song, troll, Devil's Snare. Chess and poison and stone. Books, voices in the walls, madness, snakes, fear, fear, stillness like death, paralysis. Moon and dirt and prison-mad eyes. Mad Eye, three becomes four, trial, trial, trial, snap. Four becomes three. Depression, relief, rules and regulations. An urge to punch kittens, anger, action, and depression again. OWLs. Sorrow, sorrow-sickness. Book and drift and death. Horcruxes, horror. Obliviate. Wedding, journey, catalyst. Pain, mudblood, you piece of _shit_ , you are _nothing_ , you are _lower_ than nothing, escape. Battle, battle pain.

The loss of hope. (Wands fall, shoulders slump.) again.

"No."

 

(She repeats.)

 

(She runs in circles.)

 

(She repeats as necessary.)

 

Years of death and trauma. Words no longer come so easily to her. Ron and Harry no longer come so easily to her.

Obliviate is the easiest spell for her now.

That, and the turn tremble turn of the special time turner she stole and modified.

 

There has to be a solution somewhere.

 

 


End file.
